It seems I do not have time to title posts or take pictures or articulate words. I haven’t even been journaling with a real pen in my notebooks. Merely tapping in a few words on my iPhone’s notepad to make sure thought A or B is not forgotten. I tap in just keywords, I think even the grammar isn’t up to par — but I do it in hope I should return to it sometime, when things are more relaxed, when I’ve got more free time. That notepad of scribbles is filled to a virtual brim with thoughts and important events in need of depth and description.
But I think it’s alright to have whims of thoughts like that. Like short meetings with the wind, you feel a breeze with a significant parable or life event, swear to not forget it and perhaps promise to ruminate with a significant other one day.
So I decided it’s okay for me to post short poems, without structured stanzas, or any lucid devices, just words from stories that are important to me. I think that is most authentic to pens and reflections. To my time and work and all the mumble in between.
I only wish there was a font on WordPress as messy as my real handwriting, so you may immerse yourself in the vibe of scrambled thoughts and brooding reflections, hahaha. I am joking. But my handwriting really is awful. Maybe I’ll write a post about what that means to me one day. Something psychological.
Well then, here’s to a new set of posts coming soon.
Featured photo is my photography. Not sure why I feel it’s symbolic. Maybe because it’s vast. Like the space in my head.
A Profound Cup of Tea 